Bathroom Monologue: Holy Grounds and Coffee

Chandler sat down on the front pew with the rookies, taking Kerick’s knife and beginning another stake. In the light of all the candles and church glass, his Santa white beard looked stained orange.

“It’s not that vampires can’t walk on holy ground,” he said, purposefully stroking the knife in Kerick’s direction. The shaving fell into the rookie’s lap. “It’s that they know I’m waiting there for them. It all began here, in this parish, on that there altar. One of those disrespectful neck-biters tried to drink my minister. He was a fine orator, and damaging those pipes was unforgivable. I nailed them to the ground and made them see sun-up through these windows.”

He gestured with the knife to the stained glass scenes. Christ carrying his cross, Mary mourning, and the Devil laughing.

“Good way to start a legend. You kill enough of them around holy ground and eventually they think they physically can’t enter. Really, it’s that they’re sissies.”

A query in response to the “anathema” plots list on http://clarkesworldmagazine.com/submissions/

It's strongly recommended that you read the banned plots list on http://clarkesworldmagazine.com/submissions/ before reading the following query.

I recently pulled a story from my trunk that I think would be perfect for your publication. Cain is a vampire tracked by Satan thanks to the psychic HIV he contracted from a tainted communion. He flees upon the advice of a talking cat and talking sword, which naturally keep calling him "thou." He and Abel found the sword in a field when they were playing as children before a time-traveling sexy vampire popped out and killed his brother and raped Cain (I know it sounds perfect for *that* anthology, but I intended this for your magazine). Though he knows Satan and the time-traveling sexy vampire are going to invade the Exodus-era of earth with their Faster-Than-Light zombie army, that era’s milquetoast governments provide no help in stopping them and are really the biggest obstacle. The talking cat (Chatty Cathy) advises Cain assemble a heroic party of Libertarians at the local inn, and though he finds a motley band of bohemians that could turn the war around, they despise him based on what history says he did. The end is a great gory battle scene where Cain spills Satan's intestines using a three-month-old copy of Scientific American (the one with the article about evolutionary psychology). “Cain is Able” is complete at 5,002 words. I’ve submitted it to a bunch of magazines simultaneously, but I’m sure they won’t mind me turning them down when you accept it.

Bathroom Monologue: Welcome to the Lady in the Lake Weapons Shop.

Welcome to the Lady in the Lake Weapons Shop. You’d like to see our wares?

The repeating rifle is 19,000 pounds.

The laser sabre is 43,000 pounds.

The laser cannon, 200 yards penetration model, is 65,000 pounds.

The laser cannon, 300 yards penetration model, is 85,000 pounds.

The combination magnetic meteorite summoner and launcher is on sale at 100,000 pounds, down from 150,000.

And we have an array of hydrogen bombs starting as low as 110,000 pounds, for a set of five.

What's that? The sword in back with the funny scabbard? Oh, saints. It's been so long since we sold one that I don't remember the price. How much have you got on you, little Arthur?

Bathroom Monologue: No Children Under 22 Admitted

"He can't be Asian. That's just racist. A guy named Blackjack can be white for the irony, and because most people who play blackjack at all are white. And he can be named black for obvious reasons. But Asian? That's not ironic! That's just weird!"

Bathroom Monologue: This Place is Flat

Welcome to the flats. The citizens don’t know about the rest of the world, but they’ve taken topography and bought enough carpenter’s levels to know that every mile of this place is flat. They’re not near the ocean, but when a carriage disappears, it does not sink over the horizon. None even come back, unless they fall upwards. Things fall up more often than you’d think, but you get used to it, and even appreciate it when you knock your drink over and don’t have to clean the carpet. Yes, it’s flat, things can fall up, and winged foot racing is the local pastime. How fast can you run to the sun? You can do it, right? Your country better, because they’ll host the Olympics sooner or later, and they know the game they’ll add.

Have you seen my R.A.Q.? 2009 Edition

Shelly asks, "What made hats for men go out of style? Everyone used to wear hats all the time. What happened?"

-Sports happened. Baseball caps were cheaper, lighter and provided direct shade for the eyes, as well as allowing one to associate with any sort of team or brand. Soon they were further accessorized until they were the head covering of choice for their generation, and that generation grew up to set the standard. Unfortunately humanity soon realized baseball caps look exceedily lame on anyone besides a pitcher or a mechanic, and thus many abandoned hat-wearing entirely.

Max asks, "Is Hellboy Ron Perlman wearing a Hellboy suit? Or is Ron Perlman Hellboy, wearing a Ron Perlman suit?"

-If you've seen Perlman without make-up, you know he's Hellboy wearing a human suit.

Samari asks, "Who put the bop in "The Bop she bop" and why would they do that?"

-To enable that woman to live her dreams of performing a verb on a noun of the same name.

KingAC asks, “If you could be any contest from a VH1 Reality show, who would you be and why?”

-I would be the contest where nobody did anything annoying for half an hour (minus commercials). Though I suspect such a contest has never happened on a reality show, given the opportunity, I would will this into existence and then be it, for the good of my fellow man.

Cassie asks, “What happened to the vest? Is it due for a comeback?”

-The vest is part of a time when men cared about their appearance. Between the Woodstock anti-capitalist period and the Gangster lazy millionaire periods of American society, spending ridiculous amounts of money to look like you didn’t care how you looked took over. The vest was drugged by nudists, stabbed several times by apparel with logos on it, and ultimately thrown in a sack and tossed in the river by ironic t-shirts. Vests could make a comeback. So could Grigorii Rasputin.

Laurita asks, “What is your favourite use for socks?”

-I have a terrible allergy to cats. They drive up my asthma and touching their fur causes woeful hives. Prolonged exposure could be fatal. My favorite use for socks is to cover my hands so I can pet them, pick them up, and throw them outside.

Roscoe asks, "What were the Egyptians up to during the middle ages? From Cleopatra to the British Empire it's like they didn't exist."

-Mostly, Europe happened to them. After Queen Cleopatra the 7th played with some snakes, Octavian annexed Egypt as a Roman province. The Romans taxed the heck out of the native Egyptians, and both parties were pretty big dicks to the Jews. Christianity popped up, like it does. Then Islam popped up, in the form of people with weapons running into the country. They were repelled for a while, but eventually the European Byzantine Empire got distracted and the Muslims pretty much got the place by default (and by default, I mean a lot more bloodshed). Various Islamic powers passed Egypt around like a hot potato until the Turks buttered it and added it to the Ottoman Empire. Europeans came back a while later to find they didn't like the furniture and declared a whole bunch of crusades. Some crusades were Christian, many were financial, and one came in the form of Napolean saying he really liked Muhammad and his book. None lasted and eventually the British took over to set up the highly anticipated World War Trilogy, which as we all know, fell apart halfway through.

That's it for this year's RAQ. I'm off to celebrate my birthday (or sleep through most of it). The Comments section is active below and there's a Wishlist link on the right side of the site. Here's to another year of seeing if I can keep this daily thing up.

60 Second Writing Challenge: What wouldn’t you let servants do for you?

No Grace, you cannot eat my food for me! You! Let go of the remote! Listen, choosing the channels I watch is not a servant's job. Go vacuum. Go do the laundry. It’s almost spring. Mow the lawn! Why the Hell are you sitting on my furniture instead of moving it upstairs? There are some things a guy insists he do himself, and then there are some things he insists other people not do – like wearing my clothes! Come on, that’s creepy.

( Inspired by http://oneminutewriter.blogspot.com/ )

R.A.Q. 2 Rising

This is the last day to add questions for the R.A.Q. If you've come up with any more, drop them in the Comments of this post, or the original. I'll see you all on my birthday, with Rarely Given Answers.

Bathroom Monologue: Zoroastrian Dodgeball

Ahura Mazda, the Uncreated Creator, stood on one side of the gym. Ahriman, bastion of chaos and destruction, stood on the other. The surveyed the line-up of potential players.

As always, destruction won the coin toss.

“I call Apollo,” said Ahriman. “He’s god of almost everything and knows a thing or two about sports.”

“Dodgeball will be in the Olympics next year,” Apollo said, trotting over to the evil side.

Ahura Mazda shook his head. “Narrow-minded. I call God.”

“I’m not playing,” said a transcendent voice. Instead a diminutive North African with a nice beard and a blue robe showed up. He looked hopeful. “It gets boring and Apollo always winds up crying. You can have My only begotten son.”

“We don’t want Jesus! He’s a wuss!”

“He’s not a wuss. He’s a pacifist.”

“Pacifists suck at sports.”

“Pacifists can excel at the cerebral, respectable sports. But if you intend to play this like brutal idiots, yes, you and My son are screwed.”

“Lend a hand," cried Ahura. "I’m pretty much You!”

“That analog trick doesn’t work on Me. I’m in all things.”

The guy in the blue robe trotted over to the side of good. Ahriman sneered.

“I call over… the God of War.”

Half a googolplex of gods went over to the left, some in Greek armor, some in Chinese plate, and millions in grass skirts and wielding pointy sticks.

“That is cheating!” proclaimed Ahura. “You can’t just call what they stand for and take all of them!”

“That’s a fair rule and I second its use henceforth. But you can’t apply rules retroactively, so the gods of war stay on my side.”

Ahura Mazda glowered at his nemesis.

“Fine. I call Gaia.”

The entire planet earth got up from under the gym and moved to Ahura Mazda’s side of the line.

“Shouldn’t be that hard to hit her,” said Angra.

“Should be pretty hard to hit anything hiding behind her,” said Ahura. “Plus, being a spheroid, she might even count as a ball that could hit everyone on your side in one throw.”

Angra Mainyu nodded in hateful respect. “You’ve gotten good at this game.”

Mother of Mercy

"Actually beginning in 1996 they stopped using lethal injections. The electric chair went out long before that. Those stories are just perpetuated to put fear into the public. I’m surprised the government doesn’t pretend you’re guillotined or torn apart by horny badgers. It’s the final meal that kills you. They drug it. They cook whatever you want, make you all happy and relaxed, and before you know it your Georgia potato salad puts you to sleep. They consider it a merciful capital punishment."

Bathroom Monologue: I was the oldest child and the last to learn to tie my shoes

I kneel before my son. He is chubby cheeked and almost cherubic, except for the evil Transformers on his little tee. He kicks up a foot and I take it in one hand.

“You’re my boy,” I tell him, “and I want you to understand how there is harmony in the universe. All life is patterns.”

“Okay, dad,” he says, unfazed thanks to years of comic books about cosmic struggles.

“You’ve got this shoe here,” I say, wiggling his foot. He nods with polite interest.

“And see how the other one looks the same, but flipped over to fit the other foot?”

He nods again, a little less polite. “No shit, dad,” he could say if he knew how to swear. “Shoes match.”

“They do. And you lace them up the same, then tie a knot.”

His lips pull down. He’s been struggling with tying his shoes.

“Look,” I say, squeezing his sneaker. He looks and I narrate, taking one lace by the neb, “I make one loop with this lace, and then what do I do with the other?”

“Make another loop?”

“That’s right! The two sides imitate each other. Then you cross them, like so.”

I pinch and loop the laces. One makes a circle, and the other goes through it.

“Did you see how they did different things there, but swapped sides? One is still one each of your shoe. Pull them tight like that, and you make one whole knot that’s actually a pattern of two laces doing the same stuff.”

He frowns down at Megatron on his shirt. “I don’t get it.”

I release his left foot and pick up the right one.

“You will, with repetition.”

Bathroom Monologue: Of Car Culture

The two most important things in the county are cars and children. They are signs of fortune. The custom with new cars is for a neighbor, normally your best friend, to come over and take a look. He will do some damage to the vehicle; perhaps crush a bug on the windshield, or make a scrape on the hood. The damage is seldom inside the vehicle, usually around the front so the new owner will see it every time he walks around. If it’s a stain, he is not to wash it off. And if it a permanent knick, he does not complain. The point is to relieve anxiety, for every new car is worn down and produces problems that unharassed owners obsess over. The car that has been marked by a neighbor reminds its owner every day that little imperfections will accrue, and they do not matter.

The same sort of friendly is not done to newborn children when they are brought home, as within hours a baby shits itself. Babies require less disillusionment than cars, and strangely, the men come over less to see them.

Bathroom Monologue: Better ways Macbeth could have ended

-Captain Crunch sails in and beheads the jerk. Macbeth doesn’t even get the chance to lament in unbearably stilted verse at him over it. No, Crunch just sails right in and swings. As the audience mills out of the Globe Theatre, he can explain that as a cartoon mascot he was invented by a marketing firm, and thus was not of woman born.

-Eowyn rides in disguised as a Northumberland soldier and stabs Macbeth to death. She then collapses, infected by his evil, but is later restored to health by Gandalf’s knowledge of herbs.

-Lady Macbeth fucking kills him because they’re the only two developed characters in the fucking play and thus should probably interact in the fucking conclusion.

-The witches show back up and turn out to be realtors on the side who set this whole thing up to get the forests trimmed back. Those removed, their holdings suddenly have a great view of sunsets, the final selling point necessary to begin a timeshare community there, just a stone’s throw away from the new king’s home.

-In Act I, Scene III, when the title fucking character finally shows up, Macbeth and Banquo enter, Macbeth says, “So foul and fair a day I have not seen, it’s too much to bear, so I guess I’ll drink this battery acid.” He then chugs a bucket full of noxious chemicals, collapses, and attendants show the audience to their cars.

Bathroom Monologue: The Thirteenth Floor

Those floors are there. They were purchased in bulk by a misanthropic entrepreneur in 1834, who foresaw a time of high rises. Having to cross the country so often that he never knew what building he’d stay at, he gave a massive loan to the Federal Treasury and related companies, in return for an exclusive opportunity to purchase the thirteenth floor of every building that would ever be built. Loathing his fellow man, he made certain all elevators would skip his floor so that no children would come by to touch his rare art, or in the mid-20th century, his arcade machines. Whenever an arcade goes out of business, he buys every machine and has them shipped to one of his thousands of private floors. The quarter slots are ripped out to be played in his lonely and unlucky rooms, only occasionally heard by people on their way up to 14.

10,000 Hits!

This week I reached 10,000 hits on the Bathroom Monologues. The counter was established a long time after the site opened, but it's still a cool milestone.



Thanks to all the visitors! I hope I've made it worth your while.

Also, don't forget the R.A.Q.!

Bathroom Monologue: Breaking Reel Ground

“I’m an innovative director. I break new ground. You know those dark, melancholy comedies that are too preoccupied to be funny? Well I make action movies too intense for fight scenes, and romances too deep to have relationships. I was going to do a bio-pic too real to be factually accurate, but someone beat me to it, and now the market is glutted with them. Take my word for it – in twenty years it will be avant garde to do what your audience expects you to do.”

Bathroom Monologue: Lance Armstrong, first man on the moon?

Yes, Lance Armstrong was the first man on the moon. He rode his Apollo Schwinn up a moon beam, something that was not thought possible previously, but only French cyclists and astronauts and tried it before. While beloved in America for this achievement, he is loathed in the French quarter of the Lake of Tranquility. Tragedy nearly struck on his return journey as he came down with cancer of the appendix, which is why all astronauts have to have that removed now. He inspired us to continue visiting space with his famous phrase, “It’s one small step for man, but you never forget how.”

Bathroom Monologue: With that Fish

"Terrifying incident today as both the Jesus Fish and the Darwin Fish were eaten by the Ursa Minor constellation. Onlookers said it was a case of annoying symbolism gone too far. Hindus upgrade to the Gandhi Whale for safety purposes."

R.A.Q. 2

It's that time of year when I have the excuse to ask,

"Have you seen my rack?"

It's actually "RAQ." I pronounce it that way because people make amusing faces.

Rarely Asked Questions is my birthday tradition at the Bathroom Monologues. Until September 2nd, I'm requesting all readers leave questions they dont normally ask anyone. Particle physics? 17th century politics? Why your mom snores? Why I write so many things about the end of the world? What your questions are, and whether they have anything to do with me, is up to you. I'll compile them and answer them all on September 4th - my birthday. That's how I celebrate. With my big RAQ.

Please leave your mysteries and queries in the Comments section of this post.

Bathroom Monologue: The Fox’s Dilemma

"I just heard of a famous essay about how everyone is either a hedgehog or a fox. It turned out the hedgehog is the creature with one all-consuming idea, while the fox has many little ideas. It was disappointing, as I thought hedgehogs were those folk whose needles drive everyone away, and foxes were those who sought out people every day to kill and eat. I longed to read this academic argument that the world consisted of shut-ins and serial killers. I longed for a theatrical adaptation, or better, a sports adaptation where each would wear team jerseys. You know, for the Foxes and the Hedgehogs. At the Superbowl of misanthropy, those who want everyone to go away and those who want everyone to die would line up and compete for yardage. A Buddhist monk emerges from his cave after seven weeks of meditation, and is promptly tackled by Fox linebacker Ed Gein. Though I guess hermits would really be more of a AA-league where you went to train for the Hedgehogs’ starting roster. If only that essay had been by a sports fan."

Bathroom Monologue: “What's your gay fantasy?” –Somebody on the TV as I was walking out of the room

I sit back on my vibrating chair.

Eventually a guy comes in and hands me a Coke. Is he gay? I don’t know. He doesn’t say, and this fantasy society is so ambivalent about it that neither of us know the ticks or “tells” that would suggest an answer. Being my fantasy, regardless of whether or not he is gay, he leaves. That’s the duration of his existence in the fantasy, beyond possibly leaving some flattering comments about those Bathroom Monologues I wasn’t sure were good. He’s a great guy.

I set the vibrating chair up to MEDIUM and sip the Coke. The kinkiest details of the fantasy have to do with a short glass of shaved ice and the beverage never losing its carbonation.

Eventually a couple of centerfold-worthy lesbians wander in and make out in front of me for a while. Because even my fantasies are a little rational, I get bored a couple of minutes in and send them away. I tip well. They did it for free, and so there is some humor to do with the tip. My fantasies tend to have jokes in them.

On the way out, the pink-haired one asks what my straight fantasy is like.

I sip the Coke and reply, “Pretty similar to this, honestly."

Bathroom Monologue: This Was How He Said Goodbye

Grandfather wanted him to be a Baptist, but the boy was one of experiences and emotions, not study, and certainly not pews. Grandfather threw the book at him, he ran from reading, and the two didn’t speak until the old man only had a few months left.

Their only conversation ran short, even though the boy said he’d recently started reading and liked Huck Finn. The dying old man barked that he needed a Bible, and Shakespeare, and Hemingway, and more and more until the boy simply walked out in tears.

Upon returning home, Grandfather disappeared into his basement, hunched over in pain, hunched over a plane, to produce an inheritance. It arrived at the boy’s apartment without explanation, a bookshelf with no books on it.

Bathroom Monologue: Six Sentence Haiku

She flees. He follows.
Hook swings, snags her neck. He yanks.
She falls. Roll credits.

Bathroom Monologue: Earth Squared

Planets are square. Spaceships take photos of them with round lenses, so of course they look spherical, but if you notice there's black space around the edges of any picture, forming a square, or at least a rectangle. Even the round lens can't suppress angular planets. It's black there because that's where it's night on Mars. Even the sun is a cube. Our circular pupils can’t handle it, and deceive us to compensate.

Handy eyes-free MP3 edition: http://www.sendspace.com/file/6e5651

Bathroom Monologue: 6 Questions Again (challenge to write six cohesive questions)

Why?

Why not?

Wait, what were we talking about?

Are you trying to change the subject?

Are we the same speaker?

Why not?

Bathroom Monologue: Edward Brownie

Edward had earned many brownie points in his life, but never learned where to exchange them. Inquiring about prizes or monetary equivalence earned him nothing more than quizzical stares. When he attempted to redeem them at the school cafeteria he was sent to the dean’s office for “shoplifting.” As though redeeming three brownie points for three brownies were theft! But by fifth grade he learned about exchange rates, and came to understand that perhaps many brownie points were necessary for one brownie. That had to be the way of it, because applying for honorary merit badges from his sister’s Brownies troop certainly wasn’t working.

Bathroom Monologue: WILL SHOOT YOU IN THE HEAD, 2 FOR $1

I took a year off from college to open a business. It was a social experiment in capitalism with no actual store name, just a sign reading: “WILL SHOOT YOU IN THE HEAD, 2 FOR $1.”

The whole point was to see who would walk in. Didn’t matter if they needed the bathroom or wanted to know if we were open on Sundays, because that’s usually a front for curiosity.

So, I soon concluded, are protests, and we got a lot of those, even after we let them inside to show we didn’t have any guns. I swore I’d close if anyone ever came in actually demanding our services, and that’s why I’m back at CalTech now, with two photographs, a Better Business Bureau complaint, and a dollar to put towards my student loans.

Handy eyes-free audio edition on free MP3: http://www.sendspace.com/file/mpbith

Six Sentence Week 5

You guessed it. Six Sentence Week returns with an August Edition. This week I've got a store that will shoot two people in the head for a dollar, a boy who doesn't know where to redeem his brownie points, a six sentence haiku, and more. A poll should pop up around Tuesday asking for your favorite. Please vote on it, and leave comments for what's stupid and what's interesting. I'm still curious what people think of my work in this particular constraint, particularly since I can't seem to stop writing in it.

#classicsontwitter 2

Once again, a bonus post with classics adapted to Twitter.

Don Quixote: Demented romantic goes on adventures that are all delusion. Twice. Sidekick becomes a governor.

The Crucible: Some girls accuse another of being a witch. Adults are also accused, and all their lives are ruined.

Arabian Nights: Girl tells a new story each night to keep her husband from killing her. He is hooked. She lives.

Canterbury Tales: Pilgrims have a storytelling contest to entertain themselves and bother each other. No one wins.

Three Musketeers: Four men with no muskets foil a plot against France.

Gone with the Wind: Privileged Southerner lives out the civil war in surprising comfort. Everybody but her leaves or dies.

Tale of Genji: The son of the emperor has lots of sex. Slowly, his friends and family die. He is sad.

Les Miserables: Jean leaves prison, steals silverware, and runs for mayor under a fake identity. He dies of old age.

Gilgamesh: The king was too cool, so the gods sent a wildman to humble him. They hang out. Wildman dies. King is sad.

Catch-22: Guy can’t stop fighting in the war unless he’s crazy, and isn’t crazy if he wants to stop. He runs away.

Lord of the Rings: Little guy has to destroy a magic ring. Everyone else fights the bad guys. Little guy destroys ring.

The Odyssey: Hero fights monsters on his long voyage home. Once home, he kills his guests.

Pride and Prejudice: Attractive people like other attractive people but don’t marry them fast enough. Hijinx ensue.

Frankenstein: Doctor sews together bodies to make a new guy. Body-Guy kills people. Body-Guy and Doctor die in the Arctic.

Lord of the Flies: Some boys are shipwrecked and become increasingly tribal and violent. Adults show up. The end.

Things Fall Apart: Europeans slowly take over an African village. Town leader hangs himself in defeat.

One Hundred Years of Solitude: Several generations struggle with the history of their town. Naturally, most die.

To Kill a Mockingbird: Children grow up with a quiet father who defends a black man against racist judiciary. He wins.

Bathroom Monologue: What would I do…?, OR, Recently unearthed, one of the original Bathroom Monologues was a mental comic strip

[Panel 1]
-Jesus walks up to the edge of the land. Beyond him is lava, completely blocking his passage.

[Panel 2]
-Jesus looks down to his WWJD charm bracelet.
Jesus: What would I do…?

[Panel 3]
-Jesus looks happy.
Jesus: Oh, right!

[Panel 4]
-Jesus looks up at the sky, shouting.
Jesus: Daaaad!